


Kindred Spirits

by TheTurtleFromHell



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Clueless gays, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Healing, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, forgemasters being forgemasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26077432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTurtleFromHell/pseuds/TheTurtleFromHell
Summary: Three forgemasters try to make a life for themselves after everything they've been through. Shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Hector/Isaac Laforeze
Comments: 16
Kudos: 52





	1. Healing

Miranda set the pot full of water on the stove to boil, stoking the flames with a poker. She took a moment to make sure the flames stayed steady, before returning to the kitchen table, “Alright, let’s see that finger.”

Hector nodded, unwrapping the bandage from his finger and looking away before he could see the appendage. He held up his hand, wincing as Miranda held it and hummed in thought.

“Well, how is it?” he asks hesitantly.

“Better than I thought it would be actually.” she said. Surprised by the assessment, Hector finally forced himself to look at his finger. There was still a bright pink ring around where Lenore’s slave ring was and a bit of scabbing up and down the finger around where Miranda had stitched his skin back together, but that was it.

“Oh.” is all he says.

“I think I have some oil to help with the scarring,” she says as she picks up a tin of salve, putting on a glove before scooping a bit onto her fingers. Hector couldn’t help the shudder then ran through him as she spread it across his finger, a deep chill settling into the skin it came in contact with before turning it numb.

“There,” she says as she stands, taking off the glove, “Let that sit for a bit.”

“You know a lot about medicine.” Hector observes as he watches her walk back to the pot, taking a pair of small scissors and tweezers from the drawer and tossing them into the boiling water.

“Fishermen get hooks stuck in themselves all the time.” she explains, “People also slip on the wet docks, children fall off roofs after being told not to climb on them, and a shark attack here and there.”

“Shark attacks?” Hector echoes in disbelief, eyes wide in surprise.

Miranda smiles coyly and points to a jar atop one of her cabinets, “I kept the teeth I found in the wounds.”

“...You could have told me that before I started dipping my feet in the water, you know.”

“Come on now, sharks aren’t all that bad.” she cackles, “They were all from little dogfish who got stuck in a fishing line or net and there was always an idiot around who’d stick his hand too close to the mouth.”

“Oh,” he breathes a sigh of relief, “You know, sometimes I can’t tell whether you like messing with me on purpose or if you are as mad as Isaac told me.”

The old witch smirks, “I like to keep you guessing.” she says as she takes a pair of tongs and removes the tools from the water, drying them off before returning to her seat at the table, “Look away.”

Hector blinks at the request, “Miranda, I’ve cut open mangled corpses, and you want me to look away from having my own stitches removed?” he asks indignantly, looking rather offended.

“I don’t trust men who insist they can handle the sight of their own blood.” she replies matter of factly.

Hector sighed, but nonetheless turned his head away as Miranda began her work. They sat in silence for a time as Miranda skillfully cut and plucked the strings from his finger. Hector’s thoughts began to wander, at first wondering about the wild habits of dogfish, which then turned into him wondering about whether or not his magic could revive a fish and the care it would have to be provided, which then made him wonder if Isaac had any knowledge on the conundrum.

And there it was, no matter what he was thinking his thoughts eventually turned to Isaac. He didn’t really understand it at first, and still didn’t. Was it because Isaac was the first human he spoke with after his years of isolation? Was it because he felt bad about betraying him and Dracula? Was it because Isaac had rescued him? Or could it be something more, perhaps?

Hector was taken aback by his own train of thought. But before he could wonder about what ‘something more’ meant, he was interrupted.

“All done.” Miranda announced as he put down the roll of gauze, releasing Hector’s newly bandaged finger, “You know the routine, keep it clean and dry and it will be healed in no time.”

“Thank you.” he smiles, flexing his finger experimentally. He couldn’t recall a time he was cared for as a human. He had been cared for as a burden, a prisoner and as a pet, but never as a fellow human. Though he wasn’t always sure how to react to it, he appreciated it greatly.

Just then the front door opened, and Isaac walked in carrying two skinned rabbits and a basket of wild figs.

“How’s your finger?” he asked as he laid the rabbits on the counter, taking a knife and starting on cutting the meat.

“It’s alright,” Hector replies, quickly adding “I mean it hurts but only because it’s healing, you know.”

“Right.” he said. There’s a pregnant pause between the two, silence filling the air (save for the clinking of the tools as Miranda puts them away).

Before it becomes too awkward, Miranda asks nonchalantly “Did you know Hector is afraid of sharks?

The forgemaster flusters immediately, “I never said that!”

Isaac cocked a brow, “Hector? The most animal loving human on this earth, afraid of one of its creatures?”

“I am not afraid of sharks!” Hector insists, “I’m just reasonably cautious about animals with the ability to maim me.”

“Of course.” he nods with mock understanding, “That’s why you hang out with the dead animals right? So there’s no chance of you being maimed right?”

“No,” he snaps, crossing his arms, “And besides, animals can be just as dangerous dead as alive. Snakes can bite even after they’re decapitated and dead animals can attract predators and scavengers, not to mention the amount of diseases a corpse can carry.”

“So in other words, a butcher would be braver than a hunter?”

Hector paused, then simply huffed, “You two are jerks.”

“Relax, we’re teasing.” the other man chuckled.

“Well forgive me, but I haven’t really had the pleasure of learning the difference between people teasing and people demeaning me.”

That statement would have turned the atmosphere tense, if not for Miranda tapping Isaac on his shoulder and telling him, “While I have my tools out, let me take a look at that cut on your side.”

Isaac immediately laid a hand over the area defensively and stepped back, “It’s fine.”

“Well how can I tell that if you don’t show me? It’s only a quick look.”

He raised a hand to stop her, “You really don’t have to-”

Miranda reacted by smacking his hand away before wagging her finger at him like an insulted grandmother, “You came here asking me to patch you two up and I’m going to make sure I did a good job! Now take off your shirt!”

Isaac visibly shrunk under the witch’s stern look, glaring at Hector as he hid his laughter behind his hand.

“Fine...” he mutters as he reluctantly peels off his shirt.


	2. Remembrance

“If you pinch your brows together any harder, they’re going to get stuck that way.” Miranda chided Isaac.

Isaac is torn from his thoughts by her voice midway through a peapod, suddenly made hyper-aware of his expression as he looked up, “Sorry, I was thinking is all.”

It was a cloudy afternoon, and the pair had decided to spend it by shelling peas for dinner later on the front porch.

“About anything in particular, or are you going to make an old lady figure it out herself?”

“I’m surprised you don’t know how to read minds considering how nosy you are.” he teases with a smile.

“Fine, keep your secrets.” Miranda chuckles, “I won’t lose sleep over it.”

Her sass never fails to bring a smile to Isaac’s face, even if it is the smallest of smiles. They continue working in silence, with nothing but the sound of pea pods being snapped open to interrupt it.

“I was thinking about my sister,” he says at last.

Miranda looks up in surprise, “I didn’t know you have a family.”

“I don’t,” he says solemnly, “Or at least, I don’t think I do.”

“Oh Isaac…” she breathes softly, gently taking his hand in hers, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he lies, ignoring the ache in his chest, “It was a long time ago.”

Miranda considers both his words and the words she’s about to say as well, “I lost my sister a long time ago as well.”

Isaac gasps in surprise, “You had a sister too?”

She nods, “Her name was Natalia. Though I called her Natty, and she called me Randy. We were two sides of a coin, as I was a loudmouth with no filter and she was a literary with her nose always with a book. As you can tell, we were doomed to be spinsters.”

“The world is most often unappreciative of what it needs.” he laments. Miranda hums in agreement.

“Our lives weren’t perfect, but it was a good life. We bickered like most siblings do, but all in good spirit. And we both liked that the children were convinced we were witches and made up tales about us stealing the toes of naughty children, even though I was the only one with magic.” she chuckles as she looks back on all the times she caught the village children peeking in her windows and had to chase them off.

“My sister and I were twins,” Isaac recalls as he picks up a pea pod, pinching it open gently, “I’m not sure if it had anything to do with the fact that we both inherited magic.”

“Probably does.” Miranda shrugs, “Anyways, go on.”

“She was… Julia wanted to be a healer.” he said, having not said her name in so long that it sounded strange coming from his mouth, “She wanted to open a shop and use the money to give to the needy. She was always thinking of others, my sister.”

The elderly forgemaster smiled fondly, “She sounds very nice.”

“Oh no, she was a horrid little menace.” Isaac scoffs, “You want to know about the first time I had to have my head shaved? We were both six and she wanted to play barber, without warning me she was going to be using  _ real scissors _ .”

“Ha!” Miranda slaps her knee laughing, “Quite the little troublemaker!”

“Oh yes, she was always getting into trouble that I had to get her out of.” he chuckles, “But there was never any animosity between us. We always stood up for each other and enjoyed playing with each other more than that of the other kids.” his voice trails off as he shuts his eyes, his heart heavy with grief. Miranda placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing him close and letting him rest his head on his shoulder.

Suddenly, something occurred to Isaac, “Was she taken by the magician?”

“Yes.” she sighs sadly, “I suppose I should have told you my beef with him was more personal than just stealing my neighbors away.”

Isaac’s eyes widened, “Miranda, why didn’t you tell me? I used all of those corpses for my army, I could have found hers and brought her back to you!”

“I know.” she says calmly, “My sister and I had discussed funerals in passing before, and we both agreed we could care less about what happened to our bodies. We even had this joke between us that we would grind the other up into chum so we wouldn’t waste money on a funeral.” she pauses and squints in thought, “… now that I think about it we had very morbid senses of humor.”

“Even if you did that, you would have at least had the chance to bid her farewell.” he laments, filled with a sense of shame alongside his grief.

“Isaac, listen to me,” she says as she places her hands on his cheeks, “I never needed her corpse to do that. Her soul decayed under the magician’s spell and its essence used to fuel his power, I accepted she was gone long ago. But I’ll admit, I like to think that when you killed the bastard, whatever is left of her was freed at last. That is all I could have asked for Isaac, and you gave it to me.”

Her resolve finally breaks through his guilt as he nods understanding, wiping the tears from his eyes before they could fall, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dampen the mood.”

“You did no such thing.” she says as she returns to shelling peas, “Even if it makes us feel rather melancholy, remembering those we loved and lost is just as important as looking to the future. It’s all part of being human.”

“Being human.” he echoes and smiles, “I’m going to need a bit more practice with that.”

“Good think I’m a patient old lady then.” she chuckles, “Alright, I think this is enough for tonight.”

“What are you planning?”

“Some of that dried pheasant we have in the shed,” she says, “Perhaps with some bread if we’ve got any left.”

“I’ll go check.” Isaac says as he stands, picking the basket up and bringing it inside.

Miranda leans back into her chair and begins to rock, looking out at the sea in thought.

“I think you would have gotten along good with him, Natty.” she says to the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i was rewatching that scene where isaac defeats the magician, and noticed one of the slaves looks [a lot like our miranda](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1vZtJ2vDjiNaJFEY8GMEBdqCumEAIl8dH/view?usp=sharing) (she's in the back right)


	3. Contact

Hector hummed as he tied his hair back into a loose ponytail, before grabbing the broom and beginning to sweep around the house. Sometimes, he wondered how an old lady like Miranda had managed to keep a tidy house. Then he remembers that she was a woman who not only patched up shark attack victims but had resisted the spell of a magician even Isaac had struggled against and then he stops wondering.

The front door opened, and Hector glanced up to see Isaac come inside with a basket of freshly caught fish. Isaac didn’t as much look his way, so Hector went back to his sweeping.

“Your hair looks nice.”

Hector startled, “Pardon?” he asked as he turned around.

“Your hair,” Isaac said as he put the basket on the counter, “It looks nice like that. Tied up I mean.”

“Oh,” he says as he touches the back of his head, “It’s um, easier to do the housework like this.”

Isaac nods understandingly, then turns back to the kitchen counter and starts on gutting the fish. Hector feels his face heat up, heart pounding in his chest as his mind races to figure out what the Hell that was all about.

The air between them suddenly turns awkward, as if they both want to say something but don’t know how.

“Boys!” Miranda called from the front yard, “I’m going to go mushroom picking, either of you want to come?”

“I’ll go!” Hector borderline frantically volunteers, resting the broom against the wall and rushing out. 

Miranda, basket and book in hand, arches a brow but doesn’t question her houseguest’s sudden interest in mushroom picking. She goes to shut the front door behind them, glancing inside as she does.

She doesn’t fail to notice the sag in Isaac’s shoulders and the disappointed look on his face like Hector had.

* * *

“I don’t get him.”

“What is there to get?” Miranda asks as she squints at a patch of mushrooms.

“I don’t know where he stands with me.” Hector huffs as he sits on a stump, “It was easy when we were generals because we knew how we had to act with each other. But now he just goes from being completely silent around me to complimenting my hair. What am I supposed to make of that?”

She held her fingers to her chin in thought, “Hand me that book,” she said, making a beckoning gesture for it, “I can’t tell if this is poisonous or not.”

Hector sighed in frustration, “Good to know my concerns are being taken seriously.” he mumbles, but nonetheless hands over the book.

“I’m multitasking,” she replied as she licked her finger and flipped through the pages, “People can be hard to read sometimes. What do you think he means by it?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you.” he shrugs.

“You don’t have a lot of experience with humans, do you?” she observes thoughtfully.

“I never really enjoyed contact with them, no, but you and Isaac are different from the others.” he explains, “I want to be different too, but he makes it so difficult. I never know the right thing to say or do around him and it drives me insane.”

She hums in thought as she picks the mushrooms from the earth, “Have you considered the reason you’re not yet able to make sense of him is because he doesn’t know what he’s doing either?”

Hector stops in his tracks, “I… Isaac’s never doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“But didn’t you say he isolated himself as well?” she points out as she stands, brushing the dirt from her dress, “You two aren’t generals anymore. You’re fellow humans, and you’re learning to be human to one another.”

Hector contemplates her words in silence.

“Have patience with him,” she says as she pats his shoulder, “In time you two will figure each other out.

* * *

They return to an empty house and a note on the table.

_ “To whom it concerns, _

_ I heard some deer near the edge of the forest and decided to see if I could catch one. Be back by sundown. _

_ -Isaac” _

“‘To whom it may concern’, as if anyone else lives here.” she scoffs, “Boil some water so that we can get these mushrooms clean, will you?”

“Of course.” he says as he says as he grabs a jug of water and pours it into the cauldron above the fireplace.

Miranda grabs an old tome from her bookshelf as Hector busies himself with the mushrooms, plopping down on the couch with a sigh as she flips open the pages. She wasn’t so much reading as she was skimming over the words, as she had read the book about a thousands times before.

Before long Hector finished up his task and sat on the couch beside her to rest his eyes for a quick moment. 

Miranda flinched as she felt something hit her shoulder, looking over to see Hector dead asleep and softly snoring. She smiled softly, shifting and allowing him to fall the rest of the way, head laying on her lap. He took a deep breath in his sleep, pulling his limbs to his body and he leaned into her touch. 

The old witch smiled and stroked his head, hands running through silver locks, “So much for not enjoying human contact.” she whispers, continuing to pet his head as she resumed her reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is basically "hector is touch-starved as fuck" and "miranda looks into the camera like she's on the office as neither forgemaster can tell they're in love with each other"


	4. Found Family Dinner

Fall announced its arrival with a bitter chill in the air.

Miranda took a satchel of herbs from her pocket and gently poured them into her pipe, before tucking it away. She lit her pipe with a violet flame from her finger, shutting her eyes as she took a long drag. Soon it would be too cold to smoke out on the porch.

Inside Hector finished up the meal of roasted mushroom and deer he had cooked, while Isaac set the table.

She took another few moments to herself before tapping the ember remains from her pipe, smothering them with her foot before heading inside in time for Hector to finish plating their food. Isaac sat patiently waiting for the others to sit before eating, a man of many manners.

Fall’s come early.” she remarks as she takes her seat, picking up her fork and stabbing it into the veal. The meat tears apart easily, juicy and well-seasoned as she chews on it, “We’ll have to start preserving half of everything we get.”

“I know how to make jams. I could probably use some of those figs down the roads.” Hector offered.

“Jams would be nice.” Isaac says, “I’ll start salting and drying out whatever I can.”

“Sounds like a plan then.” she nods.

There’s a short silence, broken only by the sounds of the clinking of forks against plates until Hector breaks it.

“I was actually meaning to ask,” he cleared his throat, “Where did you get your tattoo?”

“Hm? Oh, this old thing?” she chuckles as she raises a hand to touch the forgemaster’s symbol on her neck, “I got it when I was young and stupid and had a ton of money from beating some sailors at cards. I was mad that my mother and father kept urging me to hide my magic, so I rebelled by making my gift obvious to all who looked.”

Hector’s eyes go wide, “Were they angry?”

“Furious,” she chuckles, “I got a good belting and had to repair the fishermen’s nets for a week free of charge. That in addition to wearing a scarf whenever I left the house, but it was worth it.”

“I’m not sure whether to admire or condemn such a cocky move.” Isaac hums in thought.

“I can’t even imagine doing such an openly defiant thing to my parents,” Hector says, “I got in enough trouble trying to sneak pets into my room, I think they would have actually murdered me if I had done anything like that.”

“Good thing you got to them first, then.” he comments, clearly not meaning to say that out loud. One he realizes he did, he immediately wants to find a hole to go die from embarrassment in. 

Fortunately the subject of parricide doesn’t seem to be a sore one for Hector as he gave a short laugh, “A good thing indeed.” he agrees, completely unphased.

Isaac, equal parts relieved and still embarrassed, gives him a lopsided smile.

Miranda looks between them in thought, “Out of curiosity, do either of you know what the forgemaster symbol means?”

“It’s a solar eclipse,” Hector says, “It symbolizes how our craft and the creatures it produces are supposed to ‘plunge the world into darkness’ more or less.” he explains as Isaac nods in agreement.

“That’s not quite how I see it.” Miranda hums as he rests her chin in her hand, “While it is true the sky goes dark during an eclipse, the light of the sun is also amplified. A symbol of life and a symbol of death meeting each other in a rare but powerful celestial event, where their size and influence is equal.” she pauses to take a bite of veal, “Or perhaps I’m looking too deeply into it.”

The two men stare at her in awed silence.

“Anyways, what about your tattoos Isaac?” she says, “Any meaning there, or do you just really like lines and dots?”

“Hm? Oh,” Isaac blinks, taken aback by the abrupt turn back to the original subject, “Well, I used to only have this one scar here,” he says, tapping to the bottom line on his forehead, “It was used to mark me as property, to identify me if I ever ran away. When I got older I wanted to do something to make the mark my own, something other than a symbol of slavery. I had this idea to make it part of a larger design, a pattern of my own creation. So I began tattooing myself-”

Hector choked on his food, “You-” _ cough  _ “You did all that yourself!?”

“The ones on my face and chest, yes.” he replies, “Though the one on my arm I needed help with. I went to a local herbalist who was familiar with the art to get it done.”

“That takes a lot of fortitude to do that,” he says, “Injecting ink under your own skin.”

“It doesn’t hurt as bad as you think it might,” he shrugs, “By the way, why did you bring it up? Were you thinking of getting a tattoo?”

“Not necessarily,” Hector shrugs, “Just curious is all.”

“What would you get a tattoo off?” Miranda inquires, “Purely hypothetically of course.”

“Not sure, probably something to do with animals.”

“A cat perhaps?” Isaac offers.

“Maybe,” he considers, “A black cat, because they need the extra love.”

He chuckles, “Well when you make up your mind, I’ll be happy to introduce you to the woman who did mine.”

* * *

Isaac is not one to live in the past, but sometimes he does miss the castle and its conveniences. This is the case as he washes the dishes with nothing but an old dish towel and a bucket of water, missing the running faucets and seemingly endless supply of water the castle contained.

“Alright,” Hector said as he came inside with another bucket of water, “This should be enough for the rinsing. Need anything else?”

“No, I can finish up myself.”

“Okay…” Hector’s voice trails off, as if he had more to say. After a pregnant pause, he finally says it.

“Thank you.”

Isaac looked up in confusion, “For what?”

“You said my hair looked nice yesterday,” he clarifies, “And I forgot to say ‘thank you’.”

“Oh,” he says, “You’re welcome.”

Hector gives a small awkward smile, not unlike the one Isaac gave before, “Well, I’m going to go get ready for bed now.”

“Okay,” he nods, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

As he watches Hector leave the room, something inside his aches. It’s not painful, but it’s also not a welcome sensation. It’s almost like anxiety, but different somehow.

Whatever it is, he’s sure he’ll sleep it off.


	5. Warm Me Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little intense and delves into Hector's trauma. If you want to skip the dream sequence it's in italics.

Hector curled in on himself tighter, as if the smaller he was the less area there was for the cold to sink its frigid claws into him.

The cold reminded him of his time in Styria, when he was trapped in the bowels of the fort alone and-

“Found a blanket,” Isaac announced in a whisper as he came into their bedroom, “There’s only one, but if we share a bed it will-, are you crying?”

“What? No, I-” Hector sat up, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes, “I just yawned.”

“Okay…” he said hesitantly as he walked over, “Well, do you wanna share the blanket?”

Hector nodded and scooched over enough for Isaac to sit and fan out the blanket, covering the two of them in it’s light weight. He moved over until he hit the wall, then wrenched his eyes shut hoping the memories of his imprisonment would disappear in the darkness and leave him be. 

“You don’t have to sit so far.” Isaac says.

“Are you sure?” Hector hesitates, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Why? Do you kick in your sleep?”

“No, but wouldn’t I hurt your back with all those...” his voice trails off as if he suddenly remembers boundaries are a thing.

He cocks a brow, as if amused by his concern, “No actually. The scars actually dull most sensations.”

“Oh,” he says, “I’m sorry if that was, um, invasive.”

“It wasn’t.” Isaac assures, “Goodnight.

“Night.” Hector murmurs as he drifts off, hoping to find some solace in sleep…

* * *

_There was blood on his hands. No matter how hard he tried to wipe them on the ground, the blood wouldn’t come off._

_“A merciful cull,” came Dracula’s voice, “I will give it to you.”_

_“No,” he whimpers, “You lied to me, you fucking lied to me!”_

_The air grows cold._

_“You were easy to lie to, Hector.” he sighs, “You never even questioned the slaughter.”_

_“I did, I-I tried to stop it! I said there was nothing but bloodbath-!”_

_“But you stayed.” he interrupts._

_“No…” he voice quivers, “You promised me, you promised-_

_“What did he promise you Hector?” came Lenore’s voice, along with her sinister soft hands touching all over his body. He screamed and tried to shove her away, only to find himself hitting air._

_“SHUT UP!” he snapped at her, “I-I couldn’t do anything about it! I couldn’t just leave the council-”_

_“Oh, but you did puppy.” Carmilla taunted, “Cute, stupid puppy. You left and came right to me-”_

_“You kidnapped me!” he yells. He needs to run, he needs to get away from them but his legs feel like pins and needles and his bones like gelatin._

_The voices come closer, the air thick with their lies and choking him like an invisible collar._

**_We’ll escape together. A merciful cull. We’ll present a united front. I care for you Hector. They will listen to you, I’ve commanded it. We’ll go to Braila._ **

_“Enough.” his own voice cuts through the swirl of whispered promises, and yet Hector’s mouth hadn’t moved. His eyes widen as he sees a familiar face step out of the shadows._

_He hardly recognized the man standing before him. He was tall, confident, clad in his forgemaster uniform and staring down with disdain._

_“Pathetic.” the doppelganger says, “Is this what I’ve become? A snivelling broken shell of a man who believes anything he’s told, like a dog taking the bait?”_

_Hector tries to protest, tries to argue, but the collar around his throat is too tight for him to do anything other than gasp for air._

_“Should have just let mom and dad kill you off in the first place.” he scowls, “Would have prevented all the blood your creature’s spilled. But I suppose now is always the second best time to get things done.”_

_His copy attack, knocking him to the ground and straddling his waist as he wraps his hands around his neck. Hector chokes and struggles but it’s all in vain. He can’t breathe, everything is going dark, is this how he’s going to die? No, please nonononono-_

* * *

“Hector!”

He woke up choking on a tightness within his throat, before managing to draw in a much needed breath. As he catches his breath he sees Isaac’s concerned face above him, etched in every line of his expression.

Hector quickly sat up, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” he mumbles as he rubs at his face.

“It’s okay, I was already up.” he says, clearly lying, “What happened?”

“I… got cold.” he says. Technically, it’s the truth.

“Do you want another blanket?” Isaac offered, “I can see if-”

“No.” he says a little too quickly, before forcing his voice back to a whisper, “No, it’s fine. Forget about it.” he mumbles as he sags, the ache in his heart suddenly spreading across his body. He feels his eyes start to brim with tears, tries to wipe them before they fall.

“Hector.” he frowns. Hector hates the way he says it, the way he sounds so worried and desperate to help. It hurts even more because he knows it’s genuine, knows there is no war to gain an upper hand in or need for his forging. And that just makes him feel worse, because one half of himself is angry at not being able to tell him and the other half tells him if he does he’s making the same mistakes all over again.

Isaac sees his inner-conflict all too well, knowing it personally. He knows how the walls that trauma builds and how it traps cycles of self-blame that haunts the victim day and night. Isaac has no doubt that the toxic storm within Hector is similar to the one he faced, the one he continues to face even today.

So, he sends out a life-rope.

“Did I ever tell you about when I was a slave?”

Hector blinks at him, “Um, no…?”

“I thought he loved me too.” he continued, “He said he loved me, and he had been the one to take me off the street and care for me so why wouldn’t I believe it? He was all I had after the terrible things I went through, and I was so desperate for hope that I clung to the first promise of it.”

“That’s funny.” Hector says, “Not funny ‘ha ha’, but funny in that Lenore said something similar. Told me Striga would have had me in the torture chambers if it wasn’t for her.”

“Abusers more or less all rely on the same tactics.” Isaac nods in agreement.

Hector scoffs, “I guess that makes me stupid for letting myself get tricked over and over.”

“Hector, listen to me,” Isaac said softly, laying a hand on his cheek, “There is no such thing as ‘letting yourself be tricked’. You were tricked, and it takes a wicked person to see a vulnerable person and trick them.”

His eyes narrow “So I was weak is what you’re saying?”

“No,” Isaac tensed, voice lowering, “Being vulnerable is not weak. You are not to blame for the lies you’ve been told.”

“But I’m at fault for believing them. God, it’s so stupid,” Hector huffs in frustrations as the tears drip down his face, “The whole thing was so stupid, I wasn’t even in love with her for an hour and it still-, it bothers me even though I know it was all an act.”

“That’s okay.” he assures, “It’s okay to be hurt. A knife to the heart hurts no matter how big or small the blade is.”

Hector suddenly snorts, then bursts out laughing. Isaac blinks, taken aback by the sudden turn from sobbing to straight up guffawing. He almost wonders if Hector’s lost his mind.

“I-I’m sorry!” he chuckles as he wipes the tears, now from laughter, from his eyes, “It’s just, you making knife metaphors is just too fitting.”

“Well, at least you’re feeling better now.” he sighs, “... are you?”

“A little,” he nods, “More tired than upset now.”

“Well, that can be fixed with some sleep.” Isaac says as he scoots closer, wrapping an arm around Hector as they lay down, “I’ll be here for you if there’s another nightmare.”

Hector leans into his touch, smiling cheekily, “Will you come into my dreams and kill my personal demons yourself?”

“Don’t tempt me, I’ll find a way to do it.” Isaac teases. Hector chuckles, then yawns and drifts off to sleep. As he does Isaac tenderly brushes the hair from his face. It’s always difficult to see the ones you love in pain-

Wait a second. Love?

Oh…

_Oh._

_Oh no._


	6. Familiarity

Isaac wakes up early, or rather he finds himself unable to sleep and gets up at the first ray of dawn. He grabs his hunting gear and quietly opens the front door, only to find Miranda smoking her pipe.

“You’re up early.” she says nonchalantly.

“I was going to say the same to you.” Isaac replies as he shuts the door behind himself, “What are you doing out here?”

“I’ll tell if you tell.”

‘Avoiding my feelings for Hector and the fear that everyone I love will either hurt me or get hurt’ he thought, but what he actually replied with was “Getting an early start on hunting.”

“I see.” she says as he wonders whether or not she can sense he’s lying.

“What about you?” he asks as he crosses his arms, hoping the shift the attention away from himself.

“Waiting for the second coming of Christ.” she blew a puff of smoke, “Figured I’d have a smoke while I’m at it.”

“Alright then.” he chuckles, turning to leave, “Tell me if he comes.”

“Isaac,” she calls after him, “Is Hector alright?”

Isaac stops in his tracks and turns back as she continues with a worried expression, “I heard him crying last night.”

“Hector is…” he struggles for the right word, “He has his bad days, but he’s getting through them.”

She nods understandingly, leaning back into her chair, “Good luck with your hunt.”

“Good luck with Christ.” he says as he heads into the woods. 

There’s barely a trace of green left on the trees, leaves clinging to life in the cool autumn breeze. The ones who lost their fight crunch beneath his feet as he walks down the trail, checking the snare traps he set as he goes along. Two rabbits and a squirrel, not a lot but enough. He unties the ropes from their base and hangs the captured prey from his belt as he walks along.

A howl in the short distance suddenly catches his attention. He whirls around, grabbing his dagger and scanning the area.

He can hear the heavy panting and yelps of an animal, but it neithers gets closer nor moves further away. Suspicious, he stays low as he sneaks towards the sound, carefully stepping around twigs and large piles of leaves.

He finds the culprit just a shot ways away.

It was a timber wolf, a rusted foothold trap around its front left paw with its broken chain wrapped tightly around an exposed root. If Isaac had to guess, it was a trap left behind when the village was still in its glory. The wolf kept going from laying down catatonically to flailing about, struggling to break free from the metal trap. In its franticness it suddenly spotted Isaac in the brush, eyes narrowing as it bared its teeth and growled.

“It’s okay,” Isaac told the wolf as he approached it, as if good intentions could transcend language.

The closer he got, the stronger the smell of the infection from its mangled paw got. Through its haggard fur, there was the outline of ribs and pelvis, a clear indication that the poor creature had been suffering far too long.

The wolf’s growling trailed off, as if it was too tired to do even that. It looked up at the human with pitiful eyes, watching the dagger as it was unsheathed. It whined with each pained breath as it shut its eyes, resigned to the mercy of death.

With one well placed slice of the jugular, the wolf let out a small yelp before going limp as life faded from its eyes in a matter of seconds. Isaac had never been one to feel bad about things out of his control, especially things in nature. Still, his heart ached for the creature that had become victim to the cruelty of man.

With a grunt he grabbed the wolf by its paws and heaved it over his shoulders and onto his back, beginning the trek back with the corpse in tow.

* * *

“Good God, what is that thing!?” Miranda recoils, nearly dropping the bundle of kindling in her arms.

“A wolf,” Isaac says matter-of-factly, “It had its paw caught in an old trap, quite a while from how infected it looks.”

“That means the meat is tainted,” she sighs disappointedly, “So are you planning to skin it?”

“I was hoping to give it to Hector,” he says, “With your permission of course.”

She looks equal parts confused and irritated, “What does the man want with a dead wolf.”

“He likes pets.” he explains, “He brings them back as companions. It would bring him a sense of familiarity, I think.”

Miranda squints in thought, “Does it need food? Will it shit all over my house and tear up my good furniture?”

“It will technically still be dead, so its bodily functions don’t work.” Isaac explains, “And your furniture will stay in one piece as long as Hector commands it.”

“He better or else he and the mutt are out on the street.” she scoffs, waving her hand at him, “Go, give your little friend his gift.” 

“Thank you Miranda,” he smiles gratefully, “By the way, did Christ return?”

“Oh, you just missed him.” she smiles coyly, “He said he was only stopping by unfortunately, no official business for some time.”

“Unfortunate.” he laughs in agreement, before heading inside and setting the wolf on the kitchen table.

“Isaac, is that you?” Hector called from the other room, his footsteps coming closer as he rushed into the room, “Miranda said you went- what the Hell?” he stopped in the doorway as he spotted the wolf corpse on the table.

“It's your new pet, I found it on my hunt.” he explained, “With Miranda’s approval, of course.”

The silver-haired forgemaster glanced between the wolf and Isaac as he walked over, “You really brought her for me?”

“You said you wanted pets.” he shrugged, “But, I can bring it back to the woods if…” his voice faded away as he realized Hector was already petting through the wolf’s shaggy fur, humming as he surveyed the damaged paw.

“She looks like a ‘Helene’, don’t you think?” he said, grunting as he broke the rusted trap off her foot and let it fall to the ground with a loud metallic thud.

“That’s a nice name.” Isaac agreed. He stepped back and watched as Hector returned to their room, coming back out with two small and rusted coins, not unlike the ones from his hammer.

He held them over the corpse and clinked them together over and over, until the blue sparks they produced turned into a swirl of flames which circled in the air around him before plunging into the body.

Helene twitched, then lifted and shook her head as she opened her glowing blue eyes.

“Happy welcome back day,” Hector sing-songed to her as he placed the coins down and held her head, pressing his face to hers. Helene thanked her master with a lick, before hopping off the table and taking in her surroundings. She walked up to and sniffed at Isaac, licking and nudging his hand.

He smiled down at her as he pet her head, “You’re welcome.”

“Well, that was some pretty impressive magic.” Miranda said as she walked in and up to the wolf, “If you so much as nibble my furniture, you’re out.” she said, pointing with her pipe to make her point.

Helen simply tilted her head as if to say ‘Who, me?’

“That cute look does nothing to me, so don’t bother begging for table scraps.” she said, turning her attention to Isaac, “Now are you going to wear those animal carcasses on your hip all day or shall we get to skinning them?”

“Oh.” he said, suddenly realizing the side of his pants were now wet with blood. Oh well, wasn’t the first time.


	7. Changes

There was something about a wet nose and soft fur that just brought instant comfort to Hector. He walked through the empty streets with Helene, watching as she stopped to sniff at decrepit stalls and empty doors, likely smelling something from years gone by.

“Miranda said there used to be ten people to a house.” Hector says, “It’s hard to imagine her tolerating such crowded conditions.”

He wonders if it's a trait among all forgemasters to be distant from fellow humans, but the more he thinks about it the more he decides that conclusion is false. Hector had hated being around his parents, being around the dim-witted villagers and uppity scholars that inhabited his home island. But there was human company he enjoyed, such as Isaac and Miranda.

“I think Isaac’s spoken to me more in our first week here than he did our year at Dracula’s castle.” he says thoughtfully. Helene looks back and tilts her head at him.

Isaac’s change was strange and welcoming all at once. The man who he could never imagine doing anything more than tolerating another human had changed his mind on their species. He spoke highly of a witty and wise captain who brought him to Genui and made him rethink his stance on humanity, and he treated Miranda with the same respect and affection one would give their own grandmother (or at least what he imagined a grandmother-grandson relationship to be, seeing how he never had his own).

“You have to admit, it’s admirable how much he’s changed in a few short months.” he continues, sitting down on a crate and looking down at his bandaged finger, “Meanwhile all I did was get myself captured…”

Helene whimpered and walked over, licking his hand. He chuckled and petted her head, “I know, I know, Isaac and Miranda already lecture me enough of the self-blame.” 

He wanted so badly to believe their assurances that it wasn’t his fault, that there had been a million factors out of his control and the blame was not his own. So why was it so hard to believe then? Why did that voice in the back of his head tell him there were choices he could have made to save his own hide had he not been so naive? Why did some days he remembered nothing of his capture and other days it replayed in perfect detail over and over?

Helene barked, breaking him from his thoughts. He blinked, then smiled softly at her, “You’re not going to let my thoughts get the best of me, are you?” he asked, though it was a statement more than a question. She circled around him and sat by his side as if to confirm his suspicion. He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shaggy fur, “Thank you.” he said gratefully. Helene woofed in reply.

It was hard, yes, but nothing in life was easy. He could only hope that someday the scar on his finger would remind him more of Miranda’s medical treatment than the slave ring, that the cold would bring memories of sharing blankets rather than buckets of water thrown onto him, that the phrase ‘good boy’ would refer to a pet and not the nickname bestowed upon him.

Until that day came, he had the unrelenting support of his fellow forgemasters and his loyal pet.

As he began the walk back to the cottage, his thoughts returned to Isaac once more.

“You know,” he tells Helene, “If you had told me a year ago Isaac would be the type to enjoy a soft domestic life, I’d have thought you’d lost your mind.” he chuckles, “I don’t even know how to describe how I feel about him now. He’s just so… imperfectly perfect, you know? Like how he makes an excuse to go hunting whenever he gets flustered, and whenever he’s worried about us he’s so earnest and awkward about wanting to help. It’s almost sort of… endearing.”

Wait a second. That suspiciously sounded like something from a sappy romance novel…

“Oh no,” he says as he stops in his tracks, face heating up as the realization smacks him in the face, “Helene, I think I have a problem...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i have a lot of experience with having a self-deprecating mindset and recovering from it so it should be easy to write  
> my brain: lol you thought


	8. Advice

The household had suddenly become silent in the last week. Nothing outside of idle conversation and terse ‘hello’s were exchanged between the two men. Despite the cold they had taken to once more sleeping in separate beds, and spent their waking hours avoiding each other as they did their chores, staring at the floor all the while lest they accidentally make eye contact with each other.

Frankly, Miranda was getting sick of it. 

“You know, I’m not one to meddle in the affairs of others.” she tells Helene as they sit on the front porch, “But something must be done.”

Helene gave her a look that said she agreed.

So she bides her time until Isaac goes hunting the next day, leaving her alone with Hector.

“You’ve been working very hard lately.” she remarks as she watches him pile more firewood next to the porch. Helene sits on her feet, tail thumping against the ground as she watches her master work.

“Yes well, one can never be too prepared for winter.” he replies in a voice void of his usual spark.

“I think you and Isaac are determined to prove there is such a thing.” she says, noticing how he cringes at the mention of the other man’s name, “Keep an old lady company for a while, will you?”

“Sure, why not.” he says as he takes a moment to crack his back, before walking over and sitting at her side, “You know, for someone who fussed so much about bringing a pet into the home you sure enjoy her company.”

“She keeps my feet warm.” Miranda shrugs, “So, what’s going on between you and Isaac? Did one of you piss in the other’s oatmeal?”

Hector just abouts chokes on his own breath, “N-no, nothing’s going on between us!” he insists, almost stumbling on every word, “What makes you think that?”

“Oh nothing,” she drawls, “Other than the fact you two are acting like there is.”

“Well, there’s nothing.” he states firmly, in a way that proves the opposite.

“If you say so.” she sighs, shutting her eyes and leaning back into her chair.

There’s a long pause before Hector hesitantly asks, “Miranda… have you ever been in love?”

She opens her eyes and cocks a brow, “Are you in love?”

“No!” he snaps defensively as his face turns beet red, “... maybe.”

“Oh my, a mystery crush! You’ll have to introduce me.” she plays none the wiser, before replying “Only once or twice really. They were just flings that could have been something more if the world was kinder.”

Hector blinks, “What do you mean?”

Miranda smiles solemnly, “As badly as my parents wanted me to marry, I never did have eyes for men.”

“Oh…” is all he replies with.

For a few moments, there’s nothing but the sound of the ocean and the creaking of the old wooden rocking chair.

“In fact, I joined a convent of nuns when I was fourteen, just so I could follow a crush there. She ended up being too holy for me, so I went and had fun with the other girls in the convent.” she laughs as she recalls fondly, “You should have seen the look on the Mother Superior’s face when she caught me kissing a girl in the holy wine cellar.”

“My God Miranda,” Hector says, laughing in disbelief, “How did you escape a burning?”

“Well, she was going to report me to the authorities until nearly her entire convent came to her one by one, all admitting to having flings with me and tearfully begging her to reconsider. I think she knew if she went through with it, I would have tattled on everyone else and dragged her and her school’s reputation into the flames with me.” she smirks, “So I was sent home rather than to the pyre.”

“You really are something else.” he chuckles, “Do you have any normal life experiences? Like, just one?”

“Do you?” she retorted as she pulled her pipe from her sleeve.

“... Touche.”

“Anyways, back to the subject at hand,” she continues as she lights her pipe, “Love is more or less a game of chance.”

“But what if you lose?” he asks nervously, “I mean, there is a chance for things to go horribly wrong, isn’t there?”

“Isn’t there always?” she points out as she takes a drag, “Any of us could get wiped out by armageddon, and yet we still get out of bed in the morning in case it doesn’t. And when we do, we get to live life. Sure it’s a little bumpy at times, but that’s what makes it exciting.”

  
  


“It’s possible you’re overthinking this, Hector.” she offers, “Perhaps whoever this mystery person you have a crush on feels the same way, and is just as unsure as you are.”

“But how can I tell if I’ve been wrong about so many other things, when I’ve been wrong about love before…?”

Miranda hums in thought, “Hector, can you tell me what color the sky is?”

“I’m not doing your riddle nonsense.” he mumbles.

She rolled her eyes, “Oh for the love of-, just do it.”.

Hector groans and sits up, “It’s blue.”

“And what color did you see when you looked up in your cell in Styria?”

“Rock grey, obviously.” he sighs, “Is there a point to this?”

“The point is teaching you that context is important Hector.” she explains, “When you’re trapped with no way out, love takes on a very different meaning than what it truly is, not just to you but to anyone. Lenore took advantage of that like the crafty bitch she was, and it can be hard to trust yourself again after such a betrayal. But you freed yourself, and now you can see the world clearly and not through her prison bars.”

Hector looked away, not entirely convinced.

“You’re so much smarter and courageous than you think, Hector.” she said as she gently grabbed his chin and made him meet her sincere gaze, “You need to give yourself more credit.”

He smiles a tiny smile, “I guess you have a point.” he concedes, “So in other words, you’re telling me to go for it?”

“I didn’t tell you to do anything.” she remarks cleverly, “You need to make your own choices and trust them, dear.”

“You know, you never make things easy.” he chided playfully as he stood up, “Fine, I’ll consult myself and pray that I’m not a fool.”

“That’s all you can do, really.” she said as he walked back into the house, before smiling at Helene, “I think the rift in this household will be bridged soon.”

The wolf simply yawned and laid her head down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> miranda is the embodiment of a chaotic lesbian for those who don't know my feelings about her yet.


	9. Connections

The grey clouds looming above warn of incoming snow. 

Hector wipes the sweat from his brow, looking out at the horizon as he shifts onto his behind. Miranda had asked that the holes in the roof be patched, though it was less asking and more ‘putting her houseguests to use’ as she so lovingly stated.

Honestly, he didn’t mind doing the work for her. It was the least he could do to repay her kindness, even though she said there was no need to. Part of him wondered how she had managed so long on her own with her ailing body and magic. Not to say that he only stayed with her out of pity, but it was a concern of his.

Suddenly, the sound of steps coming up the ladder caught his attention and made him turn in time to see Isaac coming onto the roof.

“Isaac,” he says, a little surprised, “Did something happen?”

“Miranda told me to patch the roof,” he replied, looking just as surprised.

“I see…” he hums suspiciously, “You know, each time I think she can’t get any more tricky she proves me wrong.”

The other forgemaster chuckles as he seats himself next to the other, “She certainly puts ravens and foxes to shame, that’s for sure.”

Hector smiles coyly, “Aren’t animal metaphors supposed to be my thing?”

“I’m branching out from knife metaphors.” he quips back.

The two share a short laugh, before looking out at the calm sea.

“Do you ever miss home, Isaac?” Hector asks seemingly out of the blue.

“I don’t so much as miss the house itself rather than I miss the things I had there.” he sighs, “There was a book I was reading on the origins of life across cultures.”

Hector nods thoughtfully, “I miss the view.” he laments, “My house was on a hill, where you could see over the forest all the way to the sea. There was something about it that just made me feel grounded each time I saw it.”

“That sounds beautiful.” Isaac says, “Maybe one day you’ll be able to see it again.”

“Maybe.” he concedes.

With the War Council knowing of the forgemasters and possibly spreading everything about them to others in their inner circle, returning to their previous residences was too risky. It was an accepted truth, but also a painful one…

“But this view isn’t bad either,” he said. 

Isaac smiles, “It isn’t.” he agrees.

Made a little less painful by the ones he’s with.

“Hector,” Isaac takes a deep breath, folding his arms over his knees, “Have you ever had a significant other?”

He fights down the urge to respond with a sarcastic answer, “No.” he replies, “I mean, there was a girl when I was ten, and then Lenore, but I don’t think they count. What about you?”

“I never had time to worry about that sort of thing.” he says.

The air suddenly feels electric between them, charged with anxious energy. Hector’s lips tingle with the need to kiss, Isaac’s hand with the need to hold.

“What about now?” Hector presses, “Would you have time for that sort of thing now?”

He claps a hand over his mouth, eyes flying wide open at his own boldness. Isaac looks to him with an amused smile.

His voice is muffled by his hand as he struggles for words, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound-”

“Sound like what?” Isaac inquires as he scoots closer, reaching out and gently pulling his hand away, “Like you might want to kiss me?”

“Yeah…” he breathes as their faces inch closer, fingers slotting in between fingers as if their hands were made for each other, a perfectly imperfect fit, “Something like that.”

When their lips met Hector could swear that his heart had fluttered out of his chest and became lost in the wind because of how disoriented he felt, like the world had come to a standstill and the only thing that mattered was this moment.

Their lips were chapped from the sea air, parting to allow their tongues to slide against one another and-

Teeth clacked together as Isaac moved forward too quickly. They both gasped and broke the kiss, a bit stunned by the quick sharp pain.

Isaac laughs awkwardly, “Sorry, that wasn’t very good was it?”

Something about the way he says that causes a lightbulb to go off in Hector's head.

“Hold on, was that-, was this-,” he stammers, “Am I your first kiss?”

“Maybe.” he smiles coyly, “Perhaps you could help me practice a little more, my Benedictine monk?”

Hector’s face suddenly feels feverish. All he can reply with is a dumbfounded “Uh-huh, sure.”

Isaac makes a sound between a sigh and a snort, “You look cute when you’re all flustered like that.”

“I am not flustered!” he shouts as he playfully smacks the other, “Shut up before I push you off the roof!”

Isaac silences him with another kiss, smirking as he pulls away, “Not if I distract you first.”

“I hate you.” he grumbles as he crosses his arms and turns away with a pout more befitting of a toddler. Isaac leans against him and lays his head on his shoulder, causing every trace of befuddled frustration to melt away.

“Alright,” he concedes as he returns the gesture, pressing their foreheads together, “Maybe I love you.”

“I love you too.” he replies as they gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes.

… until the moment is interrupted by Miranda shouting from the ground “Are you two going to flirt all day or is my roof going to get patched before the snow!?”

“We’re working on it!” Hector shouts back as Isaac facepalms and mumbles something into his hand.

“‘Working on it’,” Miranda scoffs as she goes inside, “Is that what the kids call it nowadays?”


	10. Keeping Warm

The snow fell heavily upon the almost empty fishing village, piling up outside the home of the forgemasters.

Heavy drapes had been hung over the window to stop chilly drafts from sneaking inside as the residents sat in front of the fireplace for warmth.

Isaac tossed another log into the roaring flames, stoking the embers and watching as the wood catches before placing the grate back in front of the fireplace and returning to his seat on the couch beside Hector, who was in the midst of petting Helene’s head.

“Still prefer the cold to the warm?” Hector asked cheekily.

“Yes, I still do.” he said as he scooted closer and wrapped an arm around him, “Because if it was warm, there'd be no excuse for me to be this close.”

The silver-haired forgemaster rolled his eyes, “The more you talk, the less convinced I am that you’re as new to this relationship stuff as you claim to be.”

“Maybe I had you on my mind so long I’ve had time to practice.” Isaac counters with a smirk.

“Shut up.” he chides, following up with a kiss on his cheek.

Isaac is just about to kiss him on the lips when Helene suddenly gets up and squeezes between them, making herself comfortable as she sits and looks at Hector expectantly.

“Aw, poor girl. Was I not giving you enough love?” Hector coos as he runs his hands through her fur.

“Careful Helene, green doesn’t suit you.” Isaac says, not entirely sure how to feel about being cockblocked by a wolf. Nonetheless, he scratches behind her ear. Helene eagerly leans into his touch, before laying her head on his lap and settling in.

There’s the sound of a whistling kettle in the kitchen, and Miranda calling out “Do you boys want milk in your tea?”

“Yes please.” Hector answers for the both of them, shifting so that he could lay his head on Isaac’s shoulder without leaning too much on his pet. Isaac smiles and rests his chin on the top of his forehead as Miranda comes out, placing two of the three mugs she was holding on the table in front of them before seating herself in her rocking chair, pulling a heavy quilt over her lap as she blows on her tea.

There’s a warm sensation between them provided not by the fire, but by the sense of belonging they found in the company of each other, in people so different yet alike to themselves.

For them, they had found their kindred spirits.


End file.
